Wednesday, March 31, 2010


It's been a quiet couple of weeks in the wonderful world of the unhealthily obsessed. I did manage to take a mid 70s press of 'Bryter Layter' off the wall of the Soho branch of MVE at the weekend and yesterday I got the Marvin 'Hannibal' Peterson LP I'd been after for a while but aside of that, all quiet on the Western Front.

That said there was a period of about 40seconds last night when I thought that one of the big numbers on my Vinyl bingo card was finally going to get crossed out in blobbly red marker pen. I was in the always unpredectable, often over-priced tatt store 'Music and Books' flicking through the 'Justins' when I came across a copy of the first Ash Ra LP. Holy cock up a lamp-shade. At 30 Euros I decided it would have to be way beyond fucked for me not to take it home.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010



(Sung to the tune of the traditional 'Happy Birthday')

'Happy Birthday to me, yeah that's fuckin' right... Cos it's been a year today, since I did my first post.'

Has it really been an entire year since I first got the idea to document my listening habbits? Well, according to the Gregorian calendar, yes... yes it has!

So, am I any wiser? Have I come close to making any sense of it all? Finding reason behind the pointless compulsion, behind the seemingly endless collecting of neatly packaged music-based ephemera? No.

Monday, March 22, 2010


So it's been a tough week for reviewing records, not least because my aurally focussed time has been taken up in the main part by reassessing the first three Metallica albums on CD. Much as I would like to tell you about how well certainly 'Ride the Lightning' and 'Master of Puppets' have stood the test of time and how Cliff Burton shits all over Phil Lynott I can't, for the simple reason said listening pleasure was had by means other than vinyl. Stupid I know but without rules what are we? I review a CD and we are one step closer to total chaos, just like on that film about the guy who is trying to escape from that futuristic prison island. I think it's called 'Escape From Futuristic Prison Island'.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


So I've actually visited this place twice in the past month or so and only narrowly managed to avoid making it a hatrick this weekend. Why? Because 'Rollin Records' is a pretty fucking good record shop. It's not cheap but then if it was it would be empty. It's certainly not local - Took me about 90 minutes each way from Camden but it is well worth a visit, should you be stuck with a few hours to kill one Saturday (NOTE: They close at 5.00pm) my advice is hop on a train to West Wickham and get elbow deep in the racks.

So what does makes this place so special? For starters the Mr Rollin (Whose real name I imagine to be Dave) is one of the few people out there who seems to know what 'Mint' means. None of that piss-poor psuedo-American grading here: If it doesn't look like it just came out of a still smoking time-machine fresh from a trip to 1967 then it isn't mint, that simple.

I won't bore you with a list of my purchases, but I did come away feeling a bit like a big bass fisherman from the cover of Angling Times.

'It was this big!'

(And I am no longer looking for Unhalfbricking, Five Leaves Left or S.F Sorrow)

As well as an interesting stock 'Rollin' prooves an enjoyable place to shop. Friendly owner, attractive wife both of whom are totally accomodating, there are browsing stools for the lower racks and if that's not enough they have a more than adequate discount policy if you are buying a few records.

There's even a decent chippy across the road so you can have pie and chips while you wait for your train back to Cannon Street station to show up, what more could a man want? In fact the only down side I can think of is that they are strictly cash only and the nearest cash machine is about ten minutes walk away, still it's all good exercise.

Not sure when the above was taken but you will be releived to know that they no longer sell guitars - Guitars get in the way of records, they have a habit of falling over when you least expect it and besides a record shop that sells guitars is the same as a Video rental shop that sells Film based fancy dress (which come to think of it is as close to a bankable business plan as I have ever had).

Anyway, for some reason this is shaping up to read almost like honest to god 'copy', makes me wish there had been a fire or at the very least a mysterious smell anyway, I might as well end it in the same tone...

Come to 'Rollin Records' because I honestly can't think of a better record shop in or around London... And that's saying something.


So exactly what the difference between 'the birth of heavy metal' and a dull and elongated electric blues jam is I do not know. 'Vincebus Eruptum' is cited by some as the starting point of all things metal, a pre-cursor to Sabbath a slow distorion-laden exercise forming the 'A for apple' at the start of the heavy metal alphabet. So why does it sound so much like 'boogie woogie'?

Wednesday, March 10, 2010


In the words of the great Nickelback 'it's been a while'. I did write an aborted entry that explored in great detail the pros of removing Beyonces head with a bread knife but when it came to justifying it, it wasnt that I couldn't, but more that I shouldnt let such trivial things as that fact that I actually believe her to be the devil bother me. So that particular slice of music based torture-porn will at least for now stay in my 'draft' box.